Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 74577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Ella was in her mid-thirties with two girls—a tween and a teen—that were mirror images of her. Wavy blonde hair, long, lean limbs, round faces with big brown eyes, and the best smiles I’d ever seen.
On the days when Ella was working to take care of our overnight boarding guests, you could almost always find the girls right in the building with her.
“If my shitty ex found out I left the girls alone, even though they’re old enough, he would have me back in court in a minute flat,” she said.
Ella’s ex didn’t want custody. He barely took advantage of his visitation rights he’d taken her to court for years before. He just enjoyed making Ella’s life a living hell.
Luckily, her girls loved the dogs and were still young enough not to be completely annoyed to be stuck with their mom in their free time.
“Is Tucker here yet?” she asked, glancing around for our relief.
Most of the dogs were gone for the day, save for two of the dogs whose owners called to say they were running late. And, of course, the three that were boarding overnight.
“No, but go get your girls. I’m fine here until he gets in. You know how he is,” I added, shrugging.
Tucker was the sweetest Golden Retriever guy who just… got easily distracted. By pretty flowers on the side of the road. By a groundhog eating grass. By particularly interesting cloud formations. The guy was never on time because of it. But he was so nice that you couldn’t even be mad at him about it.
“Can you believe he got his masters?” she asked, shaking her head. “How’d he focus in class?”
I was more interested in why, if he had his masters, he was working at The Paw Palace for minimum wage and unreliable hours.
I mean, yeah, this was New Jersey, and the minimum wage was good, but still. It wasn’t “masters degree” income. Not even close.
“A masters in what?” I asked.
“Applied statistics,” Ella said, reaching up to pull her hair out of her claw clip, letting the golden strands fall around her shoulders. “I looked it up once. He could be making like a hundred-sixty a year. And yet… here he is,” she said as his van pulled into the lot. “In his home.”
Yeah, Tucker lived in his van. By choice, not because he couldn’t afford an apartment or something like that. We all managed to have our own places on this salary. He just claimed it was ‘too stressful’ to have an apartment or house.
It was actually a pretty nice van. He’d undeniably put a lot of work into it to turn it from a utility van without any windows to a livable space, complete with a full-sized bed and a mini kitchen. As for a bathroom, well, he was a guy. The side of the road worked in a pinch.
“Good lord,” Ella said, letting out an airy laugh as she looked out of the front doors. “What could have distracted him already?”
I leaned over the desk and, sure enough, there was Tucker with his shaggy, dirty blond head ducked, looking at something on the pavement.
“Okay. I’m out. The little one is having three of her friends over tonight for a sleepover. And everything I do or say is embarrassing now, apparently. So… wish me luck,” she said, slinging her giant purse over her shoulder and heading out.
She called out something to Tucker that had his head snapping up, shooting her a megawatt smile that had to draw in women. Though, whether he could keep one when he was so flighty was the question.
“What were you looking at?” I asked when he came in a moment later, immediately squatting down to give Samson all the belly rubs his heart desired.
“A little ant funeral procession,” he said, nodding. “Amazing how such little creatures honor their dead. We’re really not that far removed from the animals,” he added. “You look smashing today,” he declared as he came up to the desk.
Tucker was a big compliment giver.
He always found something about everyone he encountered to comment on, to gush about. It was actually a trait I was trying hard to implement into my life. Because, I mean, who didn’t love a genuine compliment? And you never knew, your kind words could turn someone’s awful day right around.
“Thank you. This is from the new Double-Coat-Blowing line,” I said, gesturing to the fur covering me.
“The only fur coat that would have my approval,” he said, finally moving behind the desk to check over the information about the boarders.
Once you got Tucker on a task without distractions, he worked, pardon the pun, doggedly at things. The man once took all of the daycare’s files and turned them digital overnight. It was thousands and thousands of files.
“Is the carrot going to make it?” he asked as I tied off the end of the thread.